by Greg Cox
The empress came back to her chambers with a start, one hand jerking forward and knocking the breakfast tray over the edge of the desk. Crystalline plates and teacup crashed onto the carpet, splintering into dozens of tiny shards and soiling the Taguan carpet with a mixture of tea, crumbs, and honey. She gave the mess only an instant’s thought, disintegrating the broken meal and transferring it away, before clearing the disk and contacting her new first minister. The head and shoulders of a middle-aged Tkon came into focus. He looks more like his father every day, the empress thought, recalling another trusted first minister from many years ago. “Most Elevated,” he addressed her. “I’m delighted to hear from you. I have excellent news regarding the Great Endeavor. I believe we may be ready to commence the solar transference in a matter of weeks.”
His words cheered her spirits, momentarily dispelling the pall cast by her premonitions. Never mind the dark wonders alluded to in the reports, the true miracle was that the Great Endeavor had proceeded toward completion despite all the calamities of the last seventy-odd years. It had required constant pressure from the throne to keep the massive project on track, but perhaps soon her persistence would be rewarded and the empire preserved. I will die happy, she thought, even if we can accomplish no more than that.
She could not allow such hopeful musings, however, to distract her from her current purpose. “Those are fine tidings indeed,” she told him, “but let us speak of another matter. I want you to arrange an imperial address to be sent out simultaneously across the entire empire, including those regions currently in revolt. I assume we have the capacity to transmit my words into even Rzom and the other outer planets?”
Fendor arOx looked uncomfortable. “Well, yes, actually, although we’ve taken pains not to let the rebels know that we still had the means to do so. It’s a hidden advantage we’ve been holding in reserve.”
“A wise decision,” she assured him. He’s as prudent as his father, too. “But the time has come to employ that advantage. I wish to speak to my fellow Tkon, all of them. And as soon as possible.” The memory of her dream, of that spectral blade slashing down, chilled her in a way no heated chamber could hope to overcome. She knew now that this very nightmare had been haunting her sleeping hours for more years than she cared to estimate, only now escaping into the clear light of day. “I feel very strongly that the future of the empire is at stake.”
“By Q, I think she’s got it,” Q rejoiced, encouraged by what he saw transpiring in a private chamber in the imperial palace on the homeworld of the empire. He felt certain that the Tkon, as embodied by their elderly empress, were rising to the challenge posed by 0’s colleagues. “I have to admit, I was getting a bit nervous there,” he informed 0, “but it looks like they’re going to pass our test after all, and with flying colors no less.” He smiled paternally, pleased with himself for having selected the Tkon in the first place. “I always knew they had it in them.”
0 frowned, looking curiously dissatisfied with the hopeful omens so prized by the younger entity. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered.
“My friends and neighbors,” the empress began, “I speak to you today not as a ruler to her subjects, nor as a conqueror to her foes, but as one mortal being to another.”
Eschewing the grandeur of her illuminated throne, she sat behind her old wooden desk, clad in a simple but elegant white robe. With what she prayed was unmistakable symbolism, she lifted her sardonyx scepter before her, crowned by the sacred emblem of the Endless Flame, and deliberately placed it aside. Her well-lined face, serene in its composure, faced the glowing crystal screen that the first minister assured her would transmit her voice and image to every planet, moon, null station, and vessel that had ever sheltered the far-flung children of Tkon.
“I have put the trappings of power and authority away because the issue that faces us now is far greater than any political differences, no matter how serious or legitimate. Believe me when I tell you that I have come to the astounding but certain conclusion that our entire species is being tested by awesomely powerful alien beings crueler and more merciless than any god or demon imagined by our common ancestors. No other explanation can account for the ceaseless array of troubles, both natural and preternatural, that we have all been subjected to for as long as a generation.”
She paused to give her listeners time to absorb all she had told them, growing all the more convinced that she was doing the right thing. Now that she was finally giving voice to the nameless fears that had haunted her dreams, she felt that the tide was turning in her favor at last. Recognizing their true enemy, the secret genesis of all their woes, was the essential first step toward restoring the safety and happiness the empire had once provided to all its citizens, great and small.
“A startling proposition? That it is, yet I am confident that if you will examine our recent history with this understanding in mind, you will realize I speak the truth. We have all been provoked and tormented almost beyond the level of endurance, and must now rise above these hardships to prove that the better part of our natures, that which truly makes us a people, can withstand any test and emerge triumphant in the end, deserving of and ready for an even more glorious future.”
So far, so good, she thought, buoyed by the conviction and sincerity behind everything she had shared with her people. Now came the tricky part, as she moved from abstract generalities to tangible reality. She took a deep breath, praying that minds throughout the empire would not slam shut when they heard what she said next.
“I do not think it was a coincidence that this testing came upon us at the same time that the sun which has brought warmth and light to our worlds now nears its end. Was there ever a time when our people faced a greater challenge, a more elemental test of our worthiness to grow and go on?” Placing her hands beneath the surface of her desk, she cupped her fingers in a traditional solicitation of good fortune. “Many of you have opposed the Great Endeavor, questioned its practicality and expense. I respect your opinions on this subject, and admire the courage and determination with which you have defended your beliefs. But I say to you now that the time for fighting is over. For better or for worse, all preparations for the Great Endeavor have been completed. The work has been done, the riches have been spent, the time and trouble have become a fixed part of our history; all that remains is to reap the rewards of decades of striving.
“This, I believe, is the ultimate test of our species and our sanity. Let us not permit the hostilities that have divided us to blind us to opportunity before us. Whether or not you have opposed the Great Endeavor, surely there is no reason we should hesitate to spare our solar system from the sun’s inevitable expansion now that we have the means to do so. A new sun, brought here to replace our dying star, can only benefit us all.”
She leaned forward, placing the hopes of a lifetime into her voice. “I now call for an immediate cessation of all hostilities throughout both the Tkon Empire and the Rzom Alliance. As proof of my sincerity, I vow in the name of Ozari to abdicate my throne and grant independence to each of the outer worlds upon the successful completion of the Great Endeavor.” There, she thought. I said it. She could just imagine Fendor and the rest of her ministers gasping in surprise. I hope their hearts will survive the shock.
“Now is our moment, our one great chance to put the conflicts and tragedies of the past behind us and prove to whatever beings have engineered our misfortunes that the children of Tkon cannot be defeated. I ask you all, as one who wants only the best for friend and foe alike, to consider my words and look deeply into your souls for all that is wise and caring, for, as surely as our sun is fading but our people shall endure, they are watching us.”
Fourteen
“I must say, you’ve lasted longer than I expected you to.”
Preceded by a flash of white light that briefly dispelled the shadows from the dimly lit bridge, the female Q materialized in Deanna’s accustomed seat. Baby q was draped over her shoulder as she gently patted his b
ack.
As if I didn’t already have a headache, Riker thought, repressing a temptation to groan. “Can I help you?” he said harshly, hoping that she’d take a hint and leave, but knowing in his heart that the universe couldn’t be that generous.
Q ignored the sarcasm, not to mention Riker’s hostile glare. “Yes. Hold on to q…carefully, of course.” Without waiting for Riker’s consent, she lifted the infant off her shoulder and handed him to Riker, who held the baby at arm’s length, uncertain what to do about him. Even with the gravity off line, it went against his instincts to simply let go of the seemingly fragile youngster. “That’s better,” she said, taking a moment to stand up and adjust her ersatz Starfleet uniform. “Even the most devoted of mothers, which I am, needs a break every now and then.”
I do not have time for this, Riker thought, as q, unhappy with his new location, began to squirm in the first officer’s grip. The Enterprise remained becalmed within the uncertain shelter of the galactic barrier, hiding out from the Calamarain, while Geordi and his crew raced against time to get the warp engines repaired before their psionically amplified shields failed. Or before the psychic energy of the barrier, despite the shields, started frying their brains more than it already had. “The Enterprise is not a daycare center,” he said indignantly, rising to his feet and thrusting the baby back at his mother, who gave him a dirty look before she accepted the child. To his relief, q quieted as he nestled back into his mother’s arms; the last thing Riker needed was an omnipotent temper tantrum. “Why are you here and what do you want?” he demanded of the female Q.
“You needn’t be so ill-mannered,” she said huffily. Riker noticed that, despite the conspicuous absence of anything resembling gravity boots upon the woman’s feet, she had no difficulty navigating within the weightless environment. Data observed her with curiosity, Lieutenant Leyoro glowered, and Barclay gulped, while the remainder of the bridge crew took pains to get out of her way as she strolled effortlessly, casually inspecting the charred remains of the mission ops monitor station and ducking her head to avoid a floating piece of torn polyduranide sheeting. “My, you have managed to make a mess of things, haven’t you?”
“Sir?” Leyoro asked. She patted the phaser on her hip as she eyed the intruder; she no doubt realized that firing on the female Q would be a futile effort, but felt compelled by duty to make the offer. Riker shook his head, noticing again how tense and under strain Leyoro looked. Her face was pale, her jaw clenched tightly shut. Her free hand held on to the tactical platform so tightly that her knuckles were as white as her face. Her left eye twitched periodically. More than the rest of them, she seemed to be suffering from the telepathic flux of the barrier. Too bad the Angosian doctors who revved up her nervous system, he thought, never considered the long-term consequences of their tinkering.
“Stand down, Lieutenant,” he told her, “and report to sickbay.” He hoped Doctor Crusher could do something for her, even if it meant putting her into a coma like Deanna.
“What?” she said, succeeding in sounding incredulous despite a slight quaver in her voice. “Commander, I can’t abandon my post at a time like this.”
“We’re not fighting anyone now,” he said firmly. “This is an engineering crisis. Besides, you’re no good to me as a casualty.” He glanced around the bridge for a workable replacement, briefly considering Data before deciding that the android was more valuable at Ops. “Ensign Berglund, take over at tactical, and keep an eye on those shields.”
“Yes, sir,” the young Canadian woman said, stepping away from the auxiliary engineering station. Riker recalled that she had held her own during that phaser battle on Erigone VI. Leyoro let Berglund take tactical, but lingered nearby, looking like she might want to argue the point with Riker. He hoped she wouldn’t.
“Do you always reshuffle your subordinates like this?” the female Q asked, completing her circuit of the bridge and returning to the command area. “Or are you simply taking advantage of the captain’s absence to put your own stamp on things?”
Riker refused to be baited. “Why have you come back?” he asked.
“Dear little q was getting bored waiting for his father to return from his errand with your Captain Picard,” she explained, “and matters didn’t seem quite as…tumultuous…as before.”
In other words, Riker thought, we’re more likely to drop dead quietly, thanks to the psychic radiation from the barrier, than be blown to bloody pieces by the Calamarain. Apparently the former was more appropriate for family viewing.
“Besides,” she continued, “I admit to some mild curiosity as to how this little outing of yours will turn out. Q always said I should take more of an interest in the affairs of inferior life-forms, and now that we’re a family I want to make a point of sharing his hobbies.”
Is that all there is to it? Riker scratched his beard, wondering. Another frivolous whim by a typically irresponsible Q, or is there more to her reappearance, maybe some hidden agenda at work? The other Q, the usual Q, had been very vocal in his objections to the idea of the Enterprise having anything to do with the galactic barrier; in fact, it had been Captain Picard’s determination to carry out Lem Faal’s experiment that had apparently provoked Q to abduct Picard. Now that the Enterprise had actually entered the barrier, perhaps Q’s mate really wanted to keep a closer eye on them.
She needn’t have bothered, he thought. He had no intention of implementing Professor Faal’s wormhole experiment except as an extremely last resort; there were too many dangers and unforeseen factors involved. His only priority now was to save their passengers, the crew, and the ship, in that order. But maybe, it occurred to him, there’s another way to do that.
“Since you have nothing better to do,” he said to Q, “perhaps you can lend us a hand?”
“Oh?” she replied, one eyebrow raised skeptically.
Riker took a deep breath before elaborating upon his suggestion. To be honest, he felt very uneasy about dealing with a Q, let alone becoming indebted to one, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that the capricious entity standing before him, blithely burping her baby, had the ability to return the entire ship to the safety of the nearest starbase—or anywhere else, for that matter—in less than a heartbeat. He would be derelict in his duty to the crew if he didn’t at least try to turn that fact to their advantage.
“Excuse me, Commander,” Data interrupted, “but you should be aware that I am detecting pockets of concentrated psionic energy within the ship. Level twelve of the saucer section.”
“Sickbay?” Riker asked at once. Are Deanna and the others in danger? He remembered that Faal and his family had also been sent to sickbay.
Data consulted his readings. “I do not believe so, Commander, but nearby.”
“Send a science team to investigate,” he instructed, then turned back toward the female Q. Data’s report had only increased his resolution to find a safe way out of the barrier and past the Calamarain, even if it meant asking a favor of Q’s spouse.
According to some of the preliminary reports coming out of the Gamma Quadrant, Voyager had run into a Q or two; he wondered if Captain Janeway had ever tried to persuade Q into returning her ship to the Alpha Quadrant, and if so, why she had failed?
“Look,” he said, flashing his most ingratiating smile, the one that had charmed ladies from one quadrant to the other, “you and I both know that this ship is introuble. We also know that you can change that in an instant.” He watched her expression carefully, but could discern nothing more than a certain bemused curiosity on her part. “For old times’ sake, and out of respect for this ship’s long friendship with Q”—I can’t believe I’m saying this, he thought—“why don’t you relocate the Enterprise to a more congenial environment, where we’ll be in a better position to offer you the full hospitality of the ship? I promise you, at the moment you’re not seeing us at our best.”
She smiled mercilessly. “Please don’t take offense, Commander, but a mud hut with room service is
not significantly more attractive than a mud hut without such amenities.” She shifted the baby to her other shoulder as she considered Riker’s proposition. A tiny mouthful of milk or formula oozed from the child’s lips to hang messily in midair. “Upon reflection, I think I am content to remain where we are. Do feel free, though, to pilot your little vessel as you see fit…under your own power, of course.”
Thanks a lot, he thought sarcastically, not yet willing to take no for an answer. “Our options are somewhat limited at present, but why stay here? If you want to understand Q’s interest in humanity, why not return us to the heart of the Federation? Or even Earth itself?” A reasonable question, Riker thought, but their visitor seemed to feel otherwise.
“I am hardly obliged to justify my decisions to you,” she declared, elevating her chin to a more aristocratic angle. “My reasons are my own, and none of your concern.”
Not when they may be the only thing standing between this crew and obliteration, he mused, unswayed by her imperious attitude. The only question was, how best to overcome her objections, whatever they might be? Why would she want to stay here in the first place?
A sudden suspicion struck him, flaring to life through the slow, steady ache that threatened to muddy his thinking: Could it be that this entire episode, with the Calamarain and the barrier and Picard’s disappearance, was simply another one of Q’s convoluted “tests,” with the female Q in on the scam? Certainly it wouldn’t be the first time that Q threw them into a life-threatening predicament without even bothering to explain the rules of the game.